


Unperceived Guilt

by DanRoseWrites



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Gen, Serial Killer Gabriel, detective beelzebub, no ineffable bureaucracy here folks, serial killer gabe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanRoseWrites/pseuds/DanRoseWrites
Summary: I was given the name Gabriel for a reason. Not because some family member I never knew had the same name, but because the title was placed into my parent’s minds by the Almighty. I’ve never fit in with humanity, and I finally understand why. Gabriel Driscoll is simply the form I’ve been given in order to exist and operate on Earth. Humanity requires direct divine influence, so I was sent down from Heaven to guide them along the righteous path.





	Unperceived Guilt

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051470) by [missymisery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missymisery/pseuds/missymisery). 

> I tagged graphic violence because violence is referenced a lot, but I didn't actually write any violent scenes. But, I mean, it's a serial killer AU, so tread carefully.

Life wasn’t always complex. There wasn’t always an elaborate facade or plan. There was, instead, a simple family with a father, a mother, a daughter, and a son. They had the life you’d expect any nuclear family to have. The father had a job, the mother stayed home, the children went to school, and on Sundays they would all go to church together. Beyond that, the children, Micah and Gabriel, spent all their free time with their friends Sandie and Yuri. If one of the group was spotted, the other three were likely close behind. They truly were inseparable, sticking together through thick and thin. Not that life was much of a struggle in those days, but things change, they always do.

They could have stayed close throughout their lives, remained in their hometown, and raised their families next door to each other. They could have grown apart naturally, living only as faulty stories in each others’ minds. They could have fallen out dramatically, burning the bridges, yet failing to erase their shared memories. No one will ever know what would have happened, seeing as Micah, Sandie, and Yuri were murdered.

  


**“Corrupt Priest Murdered Children, Victim’s Brother Takes Revenge After Three Years of Silence”**

**Lael Gray**

Father Mendez, once revered as a pillar of the Bethel community, was found mortally wounded in his church after mass this past Sunday. The witness, who reentered the church to grab her forgotten cardigan, stumbled upon a ten-year-old altar boy beside the man’s corpse, weapon in hand. The boy was quickly taken into police custody, and his parents called to the station. The questioning that followed led to the resolution of a cold case from three years prior.

The formerly quiet town has been haunted by the disappearances of a trio of young children for nearly three years now. The three disappeared without a trace, no one seemed to have any clue regarding their fate. Now, after the boy’s questioning, we know that was unfortunately not the case. Though the young boy was in shock, he informed police that Mendez had killed the three children. Mendez also forced the altar boy, a witness to the murders and the brother of a victim, into silence for these past three years.

The police report states that Mendez intended to assault the boy, forcing the child to protect himself at all costs. Since he was acting out of self-defense, the ten-year-old was released without any charges. His family is asking for privacy during this difficult time.

-

University was supposed to help me strengthen my faith, but now I question it more than ever. My peers are undevoted and superficial, yet still claim they’re as close to the Almighty as I. They spend their time going out and partying rather than dedicating time towards their education. No one here takes anything as seriously as I do, and that makes me question whether or not my professors and religious leaders are truly dedicated. It seems unlikely now. There’s not a soul on this campus that I can possibly respect, yet they’re all absolutely certain they are living life appropriately, according to the Bible. I’ve spoken up about this, but they just don’t hear me. They call me a bigot and will me to keep my mouth shut instead of listening to my well-founded criticism.

I suppose I should revise my opening statement, as it’s not _ MY _ faith that I question, but the faith of the Catholic Church. That seed of doubt was always there, but now it’s beginning to sprout. I’m not sure what to do about it yet, but I refuse to sit back and let this continue to happen. Change is necessary and, if no one else dares, I will enact it myself. 

It all makes sense now. I was given the name Gabriel for a reason. Not because some family member I never knew had the same name, but because the title was placed into my parent’s minds by the Almighty. I’ve never fit in with humanity, and I finally understand why. Gabriel Driscoll is simply the form I’ve been given in order to exist and operate on Earth. Humanity requires direct divine influence, so I was sent down from Heaven to guide them along the righteous path. I was meant to have aid in the form of my siblings Michael, Sandalphon, and Uriel, but their bodies were discorporated early on. Thus, responsibility is left to me alone. For now, that is. My followers will be eager to help, once they come to their own realizations. 

My revelation comes at a perfect time, of course. The Almighty knew I would need to act upon this knowledge now, rather than earlier or later. Now that I am aware, I must be patient as I work toward my divine objective. If I am to make as much of an impact as I am meant to, I must attempt to follow the guidelines of this world. Humanity needs to be willing to listen in order to aid in the circulation of the holy message. They may start out as resistant because of the current, sinful societal norms. However, if I design the exterior perception of the truth to be enticing, they won’t doubt joining me so quickly. I will draw them in and lead them to the truth gradually. 

I’ll keep up my studies for the time being. There’s no need to rush.

Things have been coming along smoothly. I have everything prepared for graduation and far beyond. Useless as this degree is to me, I know it will convince those religious sheep that I am worth their trust. The rest of the population will come along just as easily. I know how to persuade anyone, at this point. Of course, there will be those that resist for reasons of individuality or ignorance, but they’ll accept the truth, given time. I have to be patient with them and return any trust that they give me as I wait.

For now, finals are fast approaching, and I have to set aside my grandeur plans to study instead. I know all that there is to know about these false religions, but I cannot risk failure after so long. Once this is over, I’ll sta

There’s been a change of plans.

  


**“HU Dorm in Near Ashes, Many Dead and Injured”**

**Ashley Kennedy **

Yesterday, Davidson fire dispatch received an alarm from Haven University’s Rhinehurst Hall Dormitory at approximately 4:23 in the afternoon. 

“The fire was already massive when we got to the scene,” said DFD Captain Harrison, “Our first crew rushed in and started to clear the building. Just by looking at it, we knew there would be casualties.”

The fire raged for hours, as more responders were continually called in to help put the fire out and search for survivors.

Harrison says there was no visible ignition sites, though there were multiple fires set throughout the dormitory. A fire investigator was called in and noted many suspicious details throughout the scene. The incident is being treated as arson, though there are no suspects at this time.

There have been 12 pronounced dead, 18 injured, and more residents unaccounted for. Of the 12, 7 of the deceased have yet to be identified.

-

After a slight adjustment, I’ve settled down in Eden, where I was meant to begin. The people here are fragile-minded and seem kind, so this will certainly be a good place to start preaching. I’ve already held a general meeting and gauged interest from some of Eden’s citizens. I have all my papers in order, just in case law enforcement comes to question my church’s authenticity as we grow. I’ve had some altered to cover my tracks properly. Gabriel Driscoll perished back in Rhinehurst Hall and Gabriel Weeks rose from the ashes.

I’ve gathered a small following in Eden, but there are people here who want to make trouble. Those that know where they belong will come with me as I move to the next town. We’ll move again after a month or two and continue that cycle until we find some place to settle long-term. We’re sure to gain prestige as we go, spreading my word, the Almighty’s word, and gaining followers from town to town.

Barry’s a good man. He may not have been sent from heaven like me, but he was certainly named after Barratiel for a reason. A true believer and a loyal follower, he is. He supports me just as Barratiel would, though working with Barry is certainly less complicated. Other angels have their own hidden agendas, though we share common goals. Barry, on the other hand, follows my words exactly as I state them. Quite the help he is. 

It is unfortunate that we cannot hold intellectual conversations, though. Speaking with him lacks any sort of stimulation for this ethereal mind, but I am grateful for his loyalty nonetheless. He has begun to help me seek out proper offerings (Those followers who are willing to give themselves up for the Almighty’s judgement). They purge themselves of that tainted nourishment under my guidance, allowing themselves to be judged as they truly are. They are visited by my siblings once their bodies are completely cleansed, and they souls either raised to Heaven or disposed of in Hell. 

For the time being, only Barry and the chosen are aware of this process. The others may not yet understand, as remnants of society’s norms linger in their minds, attempting to distract them from my teachings and bring them closer to ruin. I will lead them in the fight against this corrupt society. I will deliver them to the Almighty. 

Angel Zira Fell is a proper companion, clearly sent to stand by my side. The journalist stopped by some time ago, for an interview, and has attended a few meetings since. He’s expressed an interest in working with me to print my word in his articles. It’s true that he may be spacey, but he holds his own opinions and shares them with me confidently. He reminds me of my siblings in that way.

Conversing with Angel is far more engaging than conversing with Barry, but the journalist needs some convincing to get him completely subservient. He’ll have to be readjusted, taught to trust in me and question society. It’s good to openly communicate, but I must keep an eye on him. If he gets to the point of self-righteousness, he’ll have to be silenced. And what a shame that would be. For now, though, there’s no reason to doubt him. 

Angel’s mentioned his family. He speaks openly of his hobbies and daily activities, but he hasn’t once mentioned his friends in the police department. I saw him with detective Crowley today. They were at a cafe, chatting innocently, comfortably. They’re close, much more than recent acquaintances. He knows what he’s doing, but I do too. It’s not too late for him.

I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but Mr. Fell could not be redeemed. At least he could be used as an example.

  


**“Local Journalist Left For Dead, Suspect in Police Custody”**

**Liam Ward**

At approximately 12:23 AM Monday morning, EPD received a call reporting a fire on the outskirts of town. Firefighters and police arrived on the scene by 12:38 and uncovered the unconscious body of journalist Angel Fell as the raging flames were fought. Fell was found near death with one hand severed, and was rushed to the hospital immediately. He is now in a stable condition and recovering under police protection.

This arson might link back, according to Fell, to cult activity in Eden. “I called in a tip about something unsettling I witnessed,” he recalls, “but I was overheard.”

The primary suspect, Gabriel Weeks, was tracked down and arrested, thanks to Fell’s information. He is currently being held in Eden’s Mental Hospital, being tested for mental instability. Though his lawyer claims they will go for the insanity plea, Weeks denies this.

  
-  


If I ever questioned Barry’s devotion to me before, I now admit I was wrong. I escaped that vile place they called a hospital and returned to find Barry and my followers awaiting me. Some fled after my arrest, but many stayed. Barry reminded them of all I gifted them. He implored them to be patient, assured them that I would soon return to guide them once again. 

I wasn’t quite sure myself, but Barry says I was locked up for just over four days. Those four days tested me beyond what I thought possible on this plane of existence. These doctors, these _tormentors_, were filling my body with poison. They were drowning out the word of the Almighty and purposefully sending me into hallucinogenic states, in the hope that I would act the way they wanted me to. They want to believe I have some mental disorder causing my actions. They can’t handle knowing a being so sane and enlightened has been forced to act so harshly in order to cause change in this wretched world. If they could only accept the truth, everything would have been so much easier on us all.

The problem is, those that left may turn on us completely, and I can’t have that. With the law on our tails already, we can’t risk misinformation about this religion being spread further. I’ll get them back, quickly and quietly. At this point, I’m not sure they can be redeemed, but if they are willing to give themselves to the Almighty, who am I to deny them true judgement.  
  


-

Months had gone by with no sight of Gabriel Weeks or his followers. Eden (along with the surrounding towns) had returned to being rather uneventful, but the knowledge of the killer’s supposed inaction gave no sense of ease to either citizens or law enforcement. While the populous of the town avoided discussing the cult and its leader, detectives Anthony J. Crowley and Baile Volante worked relentlessly to hunt Weeks down and put a stop to his reign of terror. While they didn’t share motivations, their motivations led them to consistent development on the case. 

They’d managed to track down some who had escaped the cult and, though they were fearful of repercussions, interview them about the inner workings of the cult. Angel Fell corroborated as much of the information as he could, based off of his own experience. From that, they were able to learn more about Weeks’ manipulation tactics and pinpoint a few potential bases for the cult’s current location. They didn’t act rashly, instead sending multiple undercover officers to each possible location and waiting for a sign of confirmation from one. As this time passed, Volante focused their efforts into discovering who it was they were really after.

Gabriel Weeks only came into existence within the past year, according to any records the detective could find. They took what concrete information they had about the young man and searched the state’s records. A few results came of that, but only one stuck out. Gabriel Driscoll, a 23 year-old university student, died when his dormitory was set ablaze by an arson. Though his body, along with a few others’, were unidentified or unaccounted for, it was believed that their bodies may have been rendered unrecognizable or even cremated within the blaze. And if that information wasn't enough to sway them, Driscoll’s photograph appeared in some of the articles about the tragedy.

Volante, confident they’d found their guy, did further research from there. Driscoll was from Bethel, a town not too far away, and his parents still lived there. There, he’d been an altar boy for a priest who killed three children and was killed three years later by another child. When they’d read that, Volante called their partner over and showed him the article.

Crowley read it over and looked to them, “What, you think that was his first taste of blood?”

They sighed, “Take this seriously, will you? This priest had already killed three kids before, there’s no saying what he could’ve done to the kid that lead to his killing.”

“Bee, I know you’re all about this tortured soul shit, but the guy’s a killer. It doesn’t matter what he went through anymore, his actions aren’t forgivable.” With that said, Crowley walked back over to his desk.

They’d had this debate time and time again, but both detectives were set in their ways. Volante thought the cult leader sick, and advocated for getting him the help he needed while he paid for his crimes in a mental institution. Crowley thought the killer a killer and advocated for him to be killed.

Once they’d received the signal from one of their undercover operatives, the events blurred together. The only truly important event was Driscoll’s arrested. Now, he needed to be questioned effectively. Both detectives had attempted interrogating the man multiple times up to this point. They started off together, but got nothing beyond religious ramblings. Crowley took his shot, but, as Volante predicted, only ended up getting pissed off after a minute alone with the alleged killer. They practically dragged the ginger out of the room and immediately sent him off for the day, since he’d clearly be no help with the interrogations at this point.

After giving their team a notice of reentry, Volante walked into the room and sat across the table from the accused. 

“I apologize for my partner’s behavior, Mr. Weeks,” they began, withholding their knowledge about his true last name, and the past tied to it, for the right moment.

The other smiled vacantly and shrugged, “I suppose mentioning Mr. Fell was not my wisest decision.”

Volante disregarded the comment. Driscoll had asked about Fell for a reason and they both knew it. “No. You got what you wanted, though, didn’t you? To speak with me alone?”

The suspect glanced over their head towards the one way mirror and sighed, “Lying is a sin, detective. I guess I should expect that from a _demon_, though.”

They’d heard this spiel before, and in a much longer format, so they changed the topic, “You do realize the severity of your situation, don’t you?”

“So long as I have the Almighty on my side, everything will work out as planned. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“Not sure how God’s going to help you in court, Mr. Weeks.”

Interrogations continued on with little progress beyond learning Driscoll’s manipulation tactics first hand. Volante was done being patient. They gathered their files and walked once more into the interrogation room. Standing opposite the seated man, they tossed the folders onto the table.

“Gabriel Driscoll. I know who you are, I know where you came from, and I know why you ended up in my city.”

“You say all this as if it means anything to me.”

“If you don’t think you did anything wrong, then why did you try so hard to cover your tracks before setting up in Eden?”

“I only did what was necessary for the betterment of humanity. Who are they, those who can just barely comprehend the complexities of their own realm, to judge _my_ actions?”

“Why did you burn down your dorm?” Volante asked more directly.

“Because it had to be done.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer there is, detective. The Almighty has a plan, I followed it then, and I continue to follow it now.”

“So was being arrested a second time a part of that plan?”

A scoff, “If it wasn’t I wouldn’t be here.”

“How about your time in the mental hospital?”

A shiver, “A trial that I surpassed.”

“Was Father Mendez part of the plan?”

Silence.

  
-

Gabriel faced psychologist after psychologist, who all deemed him mentally ill, but he was certain they were just saying what they could to downplay his message. He was assigned a defense attorney and faced a jury under the mental disorder defense, but he knew this was a part of their ploy. Sent back to a mental institution to serve his time, he knew he would get out again. He was meant to find Barry again, continue their work, and cleanse more humans. 

The doctors wanted him to take medication again, promised it would help him, but he refused. He knew what it would do. Beyond that, the only eventful happenings were Beelzebub’s visits, when they tried to tempt him into giving up details of the Almighty plan. Gabriel’s judgement held strong, though. He wasn’t going to play their game. 

The doctors withheld food from him as he continued to refuse medication, which didn’t concern Gabriel at all. His body was human, but the corporeal form didn’t necessarily need sustenance, even if he _ had _ grown used to it over time. But that resistance grew tiresome, and self-control dwindled until Gabriel relented. He took his medicine and ate his meals in silence. 

The Almighty voice dissipated again and Gabriel was left by himself in his cell. He sat and ruminate, clinging to any sign of the Lord that he could find, but there was no clear communication, nothing to reassure him of his righteousness. Reality came into question, just as it had during his first visit, but he suppressed those doubts as much as he possibly could. 

Beelzebub entered the room and approached the glass, but Gabriel didn’t dignify their entrance with a response.

“How’s the medication treating you, Driscoll?” After a moment, they pressed on, “I’m sure it’s been a difficult adjustment, but the doctors here are trying to help you.”

A weary laugh fell from Gabriel’s lips, “Help me.” and he looked to the other, “They’re doing a shitty job of it.”

“Only because you refuse to cooperate.”

His gaze sharpened and he stood, “I refuse to accept your _ lies _, that’s what I refuse!”

“Lies?” He knew what they were doing. They wanted him to spout the lies back at them. They thought he would start to believe them if he repeated them. They continued before he could retaliate, “I’ve told you nothing but the truth and you know it. Your denial can’t change objective facts, Driscoll.”

“I’m not in denial.”

“Then how about you answer some questions for me?” He opened his mouth to respond, but they continued without his word, “Good. What’s your name?”

He scoffed, “Gabriel Driscoll.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” he answered automatically, without even considering another possibility. That was okay, though. He was answering a question about this human body, which was, in fact, twenty-four years old. 

“Where did you grow up?”

He hesitated, “Bethel.”

“What was your family like when you were a kid?”

“Nothing special, just a typical American family.”

“When did your sister pass away?”

Gabriel felt a shiver run down his spine. He didn’t like thinking about that. “She passed away when I was seven.”

“And your friends?”

“At the same time,” he was growing impatient, “Whatever your point is, detective, get to it already.” 

Baile nodded and stared right into Gabriel’s eyes, “Who is Joel Mendez?”

His old priest kept coming up in these questionings, but his answer hardly varied, “The priest I served until I was ten.” The thing that never varied was the sense of unease he felt when the man was brought up.

“Why did you stop serving him and the church?”

“He passed away, and I simply didn’t continue working with the next priest.”

“How did he pass away?”

“He was killed.” His parents never talked about it and he certainly didn’t ask them, but it was common knowledge back in Bethel.

“How was he killed?”

“With a kitchen knife.” 

“How do you know that?”

He wasn’t entirely sure, but answered with an assumption, “I read it somewhere.”

“Interesting. Not one article about the case gives details about the murder weapon. Even the police files don’t specify what type of knife was used. How do you know Mendez was killed with a kitchen knife?”

Now he was stuck. His mind raced as he sputtered, “I-I read it, I know I did.” There was no other way he could know. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t, he read about it SOMEWHERE.

“You didn’t read about it, Gabriel.” Their use of his first name caught him off guard and he dropped his head. It was too personal for someone like the detective to address him as anything other than Driscoll. They’d helped lock him up, along with their partner, who hated him (and rightfully so), so why were they trying to get close to him? They had to be tricking him. They wanted his trust, but he didn’t know what would happen if he gave it. He looked up to ask what they were trying to do, only to find them gone.

That night, Gabriel dreamed as he always did. His mind used to be full of holy premonitions, but with the medication in his system, all he knew at night was fear. This night was only different because the nightmare had been so realistic. He’d been in a chapel, staring up at the stained glass windows. There were four in total, but three were practically the same. They each depicted a young child, standing straight up with their eyes shut and line of red across their neck. The fourth, positioned above the trio, was of a man. He was staring down, almost as if he was looking at Gabriel himself. One hand was at his side, grasping a small blade, and the other was holding a finger up to his lips. Both hands were the same shade of red as the line cut across the children's necks. The four figures seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place why. He stepped back in an attempt to escape the cruel gaze of the man’s image, only to trip and fall backwards over something. He adjusted his focus to see what it was he had tripped over, but the dim lighting made that difficult. He shifted onto his knees and leaned closer. There lay the deceased body of the man from the fourth window, a gruesome wound on his stomach. Gabriel scrambled back and got onto his feet, just now noticing the feeling of something in his hand’s grip. He looked down and immediately dropped the bloody knife from his hand. A woman’s scream echoed in his mind as he woke and curled in on himself. 

Years of repression finally failed Gabriel as he sobbed to himself. All the memories bombarded him and weighed on his conscience throughout the night. He had walked in on Mendez standing over the bodies of the three people he cared most about and helped that _monster_ bury them. He’d stayed loyal to that _murderer_ for three years and even when he realized he couldn’t any longer, it wasn’t the cops he went to. He went back to Mendez, and took a knife with him. He’s stabbed the man and had got thrown to the ground, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins helped him get up and finish the job. Diane Gerald found him beside the corpse with blood on his body and a knife in his hands. 

The police told him he’d acted out of self-defense and he agreed, so he wasn’t charged with anything, just sent to therapy. After a few sessions, his parents assumed he’d had enough and stopped taking him. He kept writing out his thoughts like the therapist had recommended, but with no one to help guide or correct those thoughts, that journal only helped him spiral more. He blamed himself for everything. 

_ If I really looked out for Micah, Sandie, and Yuri, they would be here. _

_ I killed them. _

_ If I went to the police right away, they would have gotten buried the right way and went to heaven. _

_ I damned them. _

_ I’m worse than him. _

_ I killed them all. _

_ I can’t be forgiven. _

He couldn’t come to terms with what he had done back then, and he certainly couldn’t come to terms with all he had done now. 

Detective Volante had called Gabriel sick and maybe they were right, but he didn’t want it to be true. He wanted to go back to believing he was an angel on a mission who only acted upon God’s will. He tried to believe again, calling out to any God that may somehow still be listening, only to rapidly reach the point of desperation when he would offer up his soul to the demon Beelzebub, and hoped the detective would appear. There was never any response other than the echo of his pathetic sobs, though. He needed to believe that he had a legitimate reason for his actions. 

There _had_ to be a reason. If there was no reason, then he was an unforgivable murderer. He took people from their families and made them believe they were being saved when he was killing them. He coerced impressionable, innocent people into helping him and manipulated them into doing his dirty work many times. He’d severed a man’s hand, left him for dead, and did everything he could to hunt him down after the man survived. Even before all of that, he’d shot his roommate and burned his dorm down to cover it up. 

Pulling himself together just enough to sit up and stare at the floor, Gabriel came to the realization that his parents would learn about this, would know what their hopeful boy had become. They would hate him deep down, but pretend to believe he wasn’t too far gone. Some would say he was victim to his sickness and his parents would agree. They would insist that he wasn’t in his right mind and hadn’t been for years. They would blame themselves and cite the trauma he’d experienced as a kid as the sole cause of his actions. He didn’t want his mom and dad defending him. He didn’t want anyone defending him.

The next few days blended together due to Gabriel’s complete mental and physical exhaustion. Doctors gave him pills and asked him questions, so he swallowed them down answered all that he could. It’s possible that Baile visited again, but he wasn’t sure. He was running on autopilot until the visitor’s door opened and detective Crowley walked in. The ginger stood in front of the glass, speaking clearly and more calmly then he ever had when talking to Gabriel, “Bee said you haven’t been responsive, so they figured I should be allowed another crack at you.” Given no response, he continued, “We’re trying to tie up loose ends here. Give me something and I’ll be on my way. Are there any other pieces of land where you dumped bodies?”

Gabriel shook his head. He’d only organized four locations, and no one would dare to disobey him by burying a body anywhere else.

“Where is Barry Price?”

“I don’t know.” He recalled Baile mentioning the young man’s disappearance early into their interrogations, but he hadn’t expected Barry to still be on the run. He’d treated him so terribly and regretted every second of it, but nothing he did now would right those wrongs.

“Any clue where he could be?”

He sighed and shook his head.

The detective nodded and looked him over, “Bee thinks the jury did the right thing, sending you here.” Gabriel raised his head to meet the detective’s scalding expression, “I can’t agree. Maybe I’m biased, but I don’t give a damn whether you’re mentally ill or whatever. A guy like you getting off so easy sickens me. You’re a killer, plain and simple. If it were up to me, I’d get the damn death penalty reinstated. Just for you.” The detective walked out and Gabriel was left alone once again.

Detective Crowley’s words rang through his mind, and Gabriel couldn’t help wishing it _were_ up to him. But no. A menace like him didn’t deserve death. He would sit here and rot, with only his guilt and night terrors to keep him company, until the devil came to claim his soul.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a part of my entry into mis.march (IG)/missymisery (Ao3)'s contest on Instagram! If you like this AU and want to see more of it, be sure to check out her original fic "Sick" here as well as her posts on IG! And beyond that, there's a few cosplayers (myself included) who have participated in bringing this AU to life.  
You can find all this under the tag #serialkillergabrielau on IG and #skgabriel on Tik Tok!  
Hope you enjoy :)


End file.
